Fatherly Affection
by gyspyqueen7
Summary: After Jay gets shot in Season 6, Voight says they will "talk" about his behaviour later. This is the "talk" - okay punishment with some minor grief counselling (Voight style) thrown in. Warning: Spanking of an adult. In my Sore Butt, Clean Conscience Universe.


After seeing the clip on YouTube of Jay being reprimanded by Voight this idea totally popped into my head and after two requests, I have written this. So, this is for SecretTwiHeart and Kaekoa who nudged me to do this story – hope this doesn't disappoint and sorry for the long time you have had to wait for this fic! Obviously, the new season of Chicago PD is not being aired yet in the UK and so I haven't seen the full episodes, so some of this may be wrong.

Okay, for the warnings: **Spanking of an adult** – you have been warned.

This is set in the same universe as all of my other Chicago PD spanking fics. If you aren't familiar with them here is the low down: basically, Voight spanks/corporally punishes his team members for errors/mistakes etc. This is obviously not sanctioned by the Chicago PD and so it done off the books to try and keep the Detective/Officers records clean from stupid mistakes. If you follow the TV series well then you will know that Voight runs by his own set of rules anyway and his demeanour lead my warped mind to this scenario and here we are.

I love comments/reviews/constructive criticism etc. so please leave a review or PM me.

All the love, K. xx

 **Jay's POV**

It's that nervous heartbeat and the twisting in your stomach that is the worst. The moment that you can hear that "thud, thud" in your ears, the sweat on your palms make them slippery as you clench your fists and sucking all of the air in the world into your lungs doesn't calm the writhing of your stomach. After all, it's not the 10 minutes of pain as someone applies smack after smack on your butt, it's the build up to and the aftermath that really make the spanking sink in. The bits that really make you think before acting again. After all, as cops you're used to pain – nearly every cop I know has been shot at least one, been tasered in training, hit the floor in a fight; pain's easy to deal with – it's the idea that you need the pain to feel better that is the really hard part to grasp.

Maybe that is the reason that I'm sitting here, nursing a half-empty beer bottle in front of me in a seedy bar – the kind where the floor was sticky, the alcohol was cheap and no questions were asked. I wanted the pain of the waiting, the gaping hold of guilt that was lodged in my stomach, the fear twisting its cold grip around my spine and the thud of my heart; I deserved it this time. I didn't deserve the quick easy punishment that Voight would deal out, the 10 minutes of pain and then nothing. My father was dead and nothing was going to make me feel any less guilty for the last angry words yelled at him; nothing.

The door of the bar slams hard causing me to jump slightly. I shift further back in the booth as I pull my jacket further around me and sip my beer. I had downed half of the beer within 3 minutes of buying it 5 hours ago and had settled myself in a booth at the back of the bar, sliding into the side of the booth, letting the shadows wrap around me. I wasn't visible from the entrance of the bar, after working with Voight and Olinsky long enough I knew just the right places to hide from questioning eyes and nowadays I was putting my new-found knowledge to use. However, after 5 days, 6 hours and around 30 minutes of avoiding Sergeant Voight, my hiding spots were starting to wear thin on the ground. From friend's couches and bars until closing time, I had avoided my apartment and the precinct like the plague itself has taken over it. I had taken shelter in the back of bars, the shadows of clubs and even the stands of the Soldiers Field Football Stadium; taken to sleeping in my car in alleys and deserted lots. It was cowardly, yet it would only be for another night – one more night and I would seek Voight out I told myself. Problem was, that mantra had been the same for the last 6 nights and still I showed no signs of actually following through.

 **Voight's POV**

I take a seat at the bar, shaking my head at the bartender as he comes over to offer me a drink and I watch. Watch as Jay shifts in his seat, pulling the label of the bottle in front of him, twisting it in between his hands – it's not the first night I've sat and watched him, kept his back as he ignores his own safety.

I had kept a close eye on Jay after Erin's departure, watched as the solid ground that Jay had been standing on begin to crumble under his feet. First the nightmares, then the insomnia, the recklessness and then the whole Camille Vega situation. Every time I waited for him to pull himself back yet every time I turned, he was further and further down that self-destructive path. Every night I had waited for that call, the call that said Jay's head was back in the game and a week ago a call had come; just not the call that I had been waiting for. This call that told me waiting for Jay to get his footing hadn't been the best course of action. Disobeying a direct order wasn't like Jay – it wasn't his style – it had been the one thing that I could rely on Jay for; his military background was deep enough engrained enough that a direct order could not, would not be disobeyed… until now.

After 5 days of watching Jay sink deeper and deeper in to his self-destructive hole, I was done with the waiting approach. As he pushed the beer around the table again for the hundredth time in an hour, my fraying temper snapped. Pushing off of the bar stool, I moved across the room and slid into the booth; effectively trapping Jay in.

He jolts as the seat shifts, the beer skittering out of his grasp and across the table. I feel his muscles coil in readiness for the attack he thinks is coming.

"We gonna have that talk?"

"I… Uh…"

Jay stutters and stumbles over the words as he shakes his head fervently. I arch an eyebrow and place a hand on his shoulder gripping down,

"Let me re-phrase that. We're gonna have that talk now."

I feel his shoulder tense and I think for a second that he is going to fight me on this. Then, he goes slack; it's like all of his breath has just left his body.

 **Halstead POV**

The sound of the apartment door closing behind me made my stomach sink. The "talk" was coming soon, no stalling tactic in the world was gonna stop Voight now. I heard his footsteps come closer and closer behind me until he was standing just in my peripheral vision to my left, watching me. His hand closes on my forearm, his grip tight as he takes a step towards the couch. With a hard twist to the left I break his grip and take a step backwards. Voight turns, surprise colouring his features – after all I had never fought a punishment before. Even in the army, I just took the punishment quietly and moved on. Not worth the 15-20 minutes arguing around the point to get your ass blistered anyway – waste of breath and time.

Voight takes a step towards me, and he shifts his weight like he is waiting for me to swing at him. He reaches for my arm again and this time I cower back slightly, words spilling out of my mouth,

"No… please... no…"

My pleas echo around the silent apartment, jarringly loud. So loud that they surprise me into clamping down my jaw to stop them for continuing to roll off of my tongue. Panic blossoms in my chest, yet as I continue to back away from Voight, he advances until my back is against my living room wall with no way out except through him.

"You should be dead – do you get that yet? You disobeyed a direct order from me. You know the consequences of that, how I work my team. My job is to keep you safe! I will always do my job and you will always do yours and listen – especially when you work in my unit! This is a non-negotiable punishment Jay. Do you understand that?"

I hang my head slightly, looking at the floor and our feet rather than having to look at him. I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth again. The flood of words are welling in my throat and chest – trying to force their way out yet I cram them down hard. I knew this punishment would be coming. Of course I knew that and I understood. I wanted to yell that I understood why he was doing this, that I was okay with that part. I had almost died. I had scared everyone. I wasn't fighting him on the punishment.

I was so focused on trying to will myself to be silent that I didn't see Voight step forward again until I felt a hand on my chin. I jerk in surprise at the gentle touch as he moves my head upwards. Our eyes meet and all of my resolve crumbles instantly.

Warm tears spill down my cheeks as ugly harse sobs rip at my chest. I feel like I am being ripped in two as I hunch downwards as much as I can, hands pressed to my face, trying to stem the flow of tears; yet it is like trying to hold back a flood. Hands wrap around my arms and guide me to the couch where I sink down. A hand settles on my back and I vaguely register the feeling of that hand rubbing circles on my back.

I don't know how long I cry for, yet after a while I calm and y tears dry up. I press my head further into my hands, hiding in the darkness for a while longer. With a steading breath I steel my resolve and look up, dragging my hands across my face wiping away the remaining traces of tears. The apartment is silent, Voight waits.

"He's dead. I was so awful to him."

I exhale a shaky breath,

"All these years I spent arguing with him. All the years I thought he disapproved of my career – first of being in the army and then a cop. All this time, he was proud of me. He never said. I was so mean to him – what I said to him…"

My voice waivered and then trailed off. I look down at my hands, my eyes moving over them but not absorbing any of what I see.

"The punishment… It'll stop the guilt, take it away. It'll make me feel okay again. I deserve the guilt. I hurt him. I said so much bad stuff to him. I deserve it. I don't want the punishment because it'll ease the guilt."

"Your father knew how much you loved him. Whatever was said, by either of you, is done. This road you're going down has a bad ending. You need to let go of this anger towards yourself, you need to grieve."

Voight's voice is quiet, a voice of calm that settles me slightly.

"However, this guilt… it's not staying – it'll eat you up from the inside out. This punishment is happening now Jay. Whether you're ready or not."

Before I have time to move off of the couch, my world inverts and I am suddenly horizontal. It's a familiar position, the same as before and I automatically move my arms in front of me to cushion my head on. Just as I relax my head down, I hear Voight's belt buckle clink.

 **Voight's POV**

I fold the leather in half in my hands. I don't snap the two halves together like I would ordinarily do – after all Jay is jumpy as it is and this punishment has been a long time coming. The build-up of anticipation has been well overstretched by Jay and so I immediately bring the belt down.

I feel Jay jerk slightly at the suddenness of the blow. I pause for a second – waiting to see if he tries to move away or cry out. He does neither and so I bring the belt down again.

10 more hits and he is squirming slightly. I move, placing the belt down on the coffee table before moving to draw down Jay's jeans and boxers. He reaches back an arm as his boxers come down but I smack it away quickly.

"You disobeyed a direct order from me **and** you put your life in serious danger. You know my rules on that! Put your hand down now. You're damn lucky that this is a punishment and not a mark on your record. I didn't think I would have to have this kind of discussion with you of all people Jay."

 **Crack!**

The belt came down with considerable strength across the fleshy part of Jay's ass. A sharp cry, although muffled by the sofa cushion in front of him, came from Jay. His back arched slightly as the pain radiated through him. I watched a red welt begin to raise on his ass as I waited until he had settled back downwards on to my knee again.

 **Crack!**

This time the belt fell just a few millimetres above the first hit. This time Jay managed to keep his body still after the hit.

"Ahh…."

A shout of pain came from Jay this time. I paused again as I waited for any other sign that Jay wasn't okay. After all, he usually was very quiet during his punishments. Keeping one eye on Jay, I turned my attention back to the punishment. It wouldn't do it keep spreading it out- after all there was a considerable few more hits to go before this was over.

 **Crack! Crack! Crack!**

This time I didn't wait between hits, bringing the belt down consecutively three times moving downwards from my first hit a millimetre at a time. Jay's body bucked slightly as the combined pain of all three hits hit him all at once. His back muscles clenched as the agony was felt and his cry was louder still than the last few.

I moved my free hand to rub his shoulder. As his movements die down, I strike again

 **Crack!**

This time the belt falls across the tops of his thighs. His legs kick upwards as the pain shoots through him. With that, I tip Jay's weight forward some and move my right leg to pin his legs downwards.

 **Crack! Crack!**

These two hits line up perfectly with my first two hits. Jay almost jack-knifes up with the pain from these two blows. On bare skin the belt is painful enough however, on already painful skin the blows are absolutely excruciating. I move my hand to one of Jay's hands where it is clenching tightly around the arm of his sofa. The knuckles are white as he grips down, I smooth my thumb over his knuckles, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Just as I go to pull my hand away, I feel his uncurl and clutch out at mine. He grips my hand tightly and I smooth my thumb over the back of his hand,

"Two more hits. Two more hits and we're done."

His head bobs forward slightly and he squeezes my hand in response as I feel him tense for the next blows.

 **Crack! Crack!**

A yowl of pain echoes around the apartment as the last two blows fall diagonally across the red welts on his butt. With that I drop my belt on to the coffee table and move to gently pull Jay's jeans and boxers back up and over the red welts lining his butt.

I find myself moving my free hand to Jay's hair, smoothing my hand through the strands like I had done to Justin when he was a child. Jay's hand stays clasped in mine.

"You're forgiven – for disobeying my order; for risking your life and for anything hurtful that you said to your father."

I feel Jay move to protest but before the words can leave his lips, I press the heel of my hand down on his butt and he cries out.

"Feel that? That is your punishment for those awful words. You've been punished for it."

With that Jay settled down again. After a while his breathing levels out and I see his eyes begin to flutter shut. I tap his shoulder

"Come on – you can't sleep on the couch. Bed."

Jay wanders towards the bathroom in a sort of daze, it looks like the week or so of minimal sleep has finally caught up with him. Hopefully his bed will be more comfortable than his car I think with a small smile as I settle sideways into the side of the couch.

I'd usually leave after a spanking, let him get on with this on his own. Yet tonight… tonight Jay seems very vulnerable; maybe vulnerable is the wrong word – almost child-like in his actions. It doesn't seem right to leave him in such an exposed state of mind. I want to make sure that his mindset is okay and so I settle down to doze on his couch until he awakes in the morning.

I internally roll my eyes at my own behaviour – Platt would tell me that I had turned positively paternal towards Jay.

 **Jay's POV**

It's the daylight that wakes me. There is a bed beneath me, daylight streaming in through the windows and for once it is past 5 o'clock. There is a peace settled over my body; that is until I turn over and yelp in pain. It feels like my ass is on fire and I roll back over to my front quickly. Last night rolled into my brain as I push my body out of bed.

I remembered coming home with Voight; my crying jag; the spanking on the couch in the living room; after that however everything was a bit blurry. I pull on some jeans absentmindly and then hiss in pain as the denim brushes my raw ass. I was going to have to remember that for the next couple of days… maybe a week or two.

I felt stronger than I had in months – the sadness was still in my chest yet the guilt had gone. I could feel myself uncurling a little, standing up straighter; the muscles a little looser. I felt more like myself than I had since Lindsay had left.

As I step out into the living room, I see him. Voight is laying on the couch, his eyes closed yet his breathing changes as I move towards him. As I get level with him, his eyes open and he smiles slightly. I move to sit, hesitate and end up dithering in the between the standing up and the sofa cushions. I sigh and sit down beside him; his laugh makes the sofa move slightly at my cautiousness.

"Thank you for last night. I…uh... I really need it."

Voight nods.

"I know. Take some time. Mourn your father."

Voight watches me for a second before nodding slightly. Clearly whatever he was looking for, he sees as he pushes off of the couch and moves to pass me, stopping at the side of the sofa and turning, his hand settles on my shoulder for a second

"Never be ashamed to ask for help Jay. Everyone needs help at some point."

He pats my shoulder before moving to grab his jacket off of the coat hooks and leaving. The door clanging shut behind him. I breath for a second and listen to the sounds of traffic passing by outside as the silence calms me for the first time in a long time.


End file.
